The taste of Jack warms my tongue

because yours isn’t here…

My eyes wander 

because yours aren’t there to guide them.

I travel the world waiting for a lock of your hair 

or a boot print in the snow 

because you’ve made a print on my heart.

And I can’t turn away from the heavy feeling,

an anvil on my chest,

because you’re not here to lift it. 

And I wipe away the tears because

Your hand will never fit in mine again.

Your hand will never fit in mine again.